Tequila
by lilhistorian
Summary: i remember how bad i need ya when i taste tequila [clawen, post-jurassic world]


**_baby, i'd never leave ya_**

 ** _i remember how bad i need ya_**

 ** _when i taste tequila_**

 _"What kind of diet doesn't allow tequila?"_

 _"All of them, actually. And what kind of a man shows up to a date in board shorts?"_

Owen couldn't help but think back to the conversation Claire and himself had shared about a week ago.

It was difficult to grasp the fact that it had only been seven days since they were both reflecting on their first (and only!) date.  
So much had transpired in the week following the park catastrophe that it felt like it had been seven _years_ since Claire had shown up at his bungalow in those ridiculous (but _really_ hot, if Owen was being honest) heels and they got into a bickering match. 

Like their date, Owen was sitting in yes, board shorts, and ironically drinking his third, (or was it fourth?) glass of tequila that evening.

There was something missing, though. 

On the date, the first date he had had in years, a beautiful redhead in a black minidress had sat across from him, eyeing his outfit as she daintily sipped red wine.

But now? 

Now there was nothing but a half-empty tequila bottle in the middle of his kitchen table keeping Owen company. 

The man took another sip, the alcohol burning a trail down his throat. 

Why had he dragged Claire into the mess at the park? Why hadn't he put his foot down and told her that she _could not_ come with him, that it was _way_ too dangerous, the danger part being the only thing she would have listened to.

She might have ignored him, _despised_ him even, if he had forcefully made her stay, but that was a cheap price to pay to guarantee that she wouldn't get hurt.

Or she wouldn't look over her shoulder every now and then out of paranoia.

Or she wouldn't wake up screaming from a nightmare about an Indominous Rex eating her and her nephews alive. 

But he had been selfish.

He had wanted to be with her, to hold her hand as he helped her over rocks (damn heels), to be close enough to smell her vanilla perfume, to make her laugh with a bad joke because her laughter was one of his favorite things in the entire world.

Oh yeah, and he had wanted to help find her nephews. 

He should've known it wouldn't be a walk in the park.

He should have realized that, besides the Indominous, there were other threats. 

The Ankylosaurus that could knock her out with one swing of its club tail.

The Brachiosaurus, that despite being a "gentle giant", could flatten her faster than you could say "pancake" if a stampede ensued.

Oh, and the pterosaurs. They were the worst. 

They could pick Claire up in one swoop and drop her just as quickly, instantly killing her.

Then Claire went and _shot one off his damn back._

"Who are you and what have you done with Claire Dearing?" he had wanted to ask as she had helped him up, but before he knew what he was doing, he had pulled Claire flush against him and full-on _kissed_ her in the middle of the damn pterosaur attack.

The time and place weren't ideal, but you would never hear Owen complain.

Claire Dearing, the woman he had loved since the moment they had met, had kissed him back in front of the entire tourist population of Jurassic World. 

That was definitely a story for the grandkids.

* * *

This is a stupid idea.

No.

This is _stupider_ than stupid. 

Claire should be at her rental condo, curled up on the couch in her comfy pajamas, watching an HBO marathon.  
That's where she _had_ been an hour ago, but she couldn't stop thinking about Owen and if he was okay, so she had changed out of her Snoopy pjs and made the drive over to his place.

And now, there she stands outside of Owen's condo, in skinny jeans and a sweatshirt that actually belongs to the man she's here to see. 

Why is she here anyway?

 _He_ was the one that had isolated himself, not picking up his phone, refusing to show up to interviews about the park.  
She had given him a few days, but it had been a _week_ and his "Probably stick together for survival," was still rattling around in her brain, and she couldn't silence it, no matter how hard she tried.

 _So much for sticking together_ she wants to scream at him, but she can't bring herself to raise either of her hands and knock on his door.

She glances down at them instead, and finds them trembling. 

If this had been two weeks ago, Claire would have never guessed that she'd be standing outside of Owen Grady's door at 1am, waiting for him to open it after she had found the courage to practically pound it down.

But a lot had happened since then.

Jurassic World was no longer open to the public. People who were alive last week weren't anymore. And now, instead of Owen pursuing Claire like he usually would have, _she_ was pursuing _him._

Although "pursue" isn't the exact word Claire would use.

She considers it as more of checking up on him, making sure he's okay. And finding out why he had cut off all contact with her and pulled his head into his turtle shell. 

The sound of glass breaking snaps Claire out of her thoughts.

 _What the hell?!_

Her first instinct is to try the door, even though she knows for a fact that Owen is a stickler on locking things.

Even more so since the park catastrophe. 

So she resorts to shouting his name while continuing to pound his door down, ignoring the searing pain in her knuckles.

What had happened? Was there an intruder? Was Owen okay?

And then, just when Claire is about to try kicking his door in, it swings open, revealing a tired-looking Owen, wearing board shorts and a t-shirt with the same Navy graphic as her sweatshirt.

Claire stands, her mouth gaping open as her heart continues to race, not catching up to the fact that Owen appears to be okay.

He innocently holds up a piece of glass, and says, "I knocked the bottle over when I was getting up to answer the door." Then, "Why did it sound like you were trying to break my door off its hinges?" he questions curiously. 

Claire doesn't know what to do. Before she had knocked, she had formulated how this conversation was going to go in her head, but the glass shattering and her being scared for Owen's life had distracted her and she had completely forgot. 

"Um, Claire?"

The woman tries to say something smart, something to reassure Owen that she isn't a sleep-deprived, chaotic mess.

"Are you okay?" she blurts instead, her eyes scanning his exposed skin, looking for cuts from the bottle.

Slowly, he smiles.

"I'm fine," Owen replies, opening the door wider so she can slip in past him. 

As soon as Claire crosses the threshold, she throws her arms around him and holds him like she never wants to let go.

"I missed you," she whispers, and Owen can't tell if it's his shirt muffling her voice or if she's just so choked up that it's hard to decipher what she's saying.

He squeezes her tight, nestling his nose in her hair, making it painfully obvious to Claire that he's missed her just as much as she's missed him.

Wait a minute- 

Claire shoots out of his arms, stumbling backwards as if she had been electrocuted.

The former raptor wrangler immediately reaches for her again, but she crosses her arms and gives him a disapproving look. 

"You abandoned me." 

Of all the things Owen was expecting the former park operations manager to say, those three words weren't it.

But since when was Claire Dearing predictable? 

"I didn't-

"Oh, but you did. What did you say?" She pauses, pretending to think before blurting, "We should _probably stick together for survival_. For survival, Owen."

He opens his mouth to speak for a second time, but she cuts him off.

"And then - THEN you disappear, you won't answer me when I call, you completely cut yourself off. What am I supposed to think?" 

She's basically yelling now, and Owen feels a headache coming on, but he keeps his focus on the woman in front of him.

Gesturing wildly with her hands, Claire almost knocks over a lamp on the side table next to the couch, but she doesn't notice. She's too deep in her rant and she will _not_ stop until Owen understands how hurt she is. 

"Tell me, Owen. Please," she says, running a hand through her hair. "Tell me why you've frozen me out."

Despite the circumstances, the man can't help but smile inwardly at her using "Owen" and not "Mr. Grady".

Two weeks ago, it would have surprised Owen to hear her call him by his first name, but ever since the incident, he would have been surprised to hear her call him by his last.

 _Weird how things can change that quick_ , he muses. 

"Owen!"

Quickly, the man snaps his attention back to the redhead, who's looking at him expectantly.

It kind of reminds him of a lion waiting for a gazelle to start running before it pounces, but Claire Dearing intimidates him more than a lion does, if he's being honest. 

"You really wanna know why I haven't called?" he questions, "and why I've cut myself off from you?"

"That's kind of why I came all the way over here, Owen."

She's giving him the same look she gave him when they were standing atop the waterfall in the park and he had said that she wouldn't last two minutes in her high heels.

Boy, had she proved him wrong. 

"I've been distancing myself from you," he continues, "because everywhere I go, chaos seems to follow."

Claire seems taken aback, his answer evidently not what she was expecting.

"Wha-"

"I don't want to drag you into another mess, Claire."

"What's the mess?"

Owen pauses, waiting for her to pick up his clues.

But she's still looking at him with the same puzzled look as before, only now she's cocking her head. 

"Me," he sighs. " _I'm_ the mess, Claire."

Not many things can shock Claire Dearing into silence, but Owen's outburst really throws her for a loop.

The man continues. "You could have anyone, and by anyone, I mean _anyone_ on this damn planet. You could have a guy that keeps you safe, someone who doesn't lead you around an island populated by _man-eating dinosaurs_. What kind of man does that make me?" 

Claire seems to regain her ability to talk as she reaches out and fiddles with the collar of his shirt.

"Owen, I-"

"Please let me finish," he whispers, his voice slightly trembling.

It doesn't go unnoticed by the redhead, who nods her head in agreement. 

"I cut myself off from you so you could go on and live your life. You have _so_ much potential, Claire. I'm sure anyone would pay big money for you to work for them."

Then, "I just want what's best for you, okay? You're special to me. And I can't stand the thought of losing you." 

Claire laughs then.

It's usually something that Owen couldn't help but laugh along with, but in this moment, it seems out of place.

Wrong, even. 

"How stupid can you be?" she chokes out between giggles, and if Claire wasn't so cute, Owen would have been offended.

"Stupid...?"

It's safe to say that Owen is lost. Why is Claire laughing? What had he said to trigger such a reaction? 

"Yes, stupid," she confirms, and although she isn't laughing anymore, a grin is still highlighting her face.

There's also tears in her eyes, which makes Owen hate himself even more.

"What do you mean stupid?" he asks, trying to hide the hurt in his voice.

Claire's smile vanishes almost as quickly as it had appeared.

She scrambles for an explanation. "I didn't mean-"

"What did you mean, then?"

The man wants to cry, but there's no way he's going to in front of her.

"You said you can't stand the thought of losing me," Claire continues, taking a step closer to him. "So you shut me out instead? What sense does that make?"

Owen doesn't know what to say for a moment. He avoids her eyes as he thinks, knowing that if he looks at them, he'll break.

"I made a mistake," he answers finally, and Claire scoffs.

"Yeah, really." Then she says, "You can keep pretending that it didn't happen and keep avoiding me, Owen, but I can't do it anymore."

He hasn't seen her this upset since she thought that her nephews were dead. And that isn't good.

"I never meant to hurt you, Claire," he blurts.

It stops her in her tracks, which he takes as a small victory.

She isn't leaving him yet.

Her gaze raises up to meet his, and he finds that the tears that were in her eyes are now streaming down her cheeks.

"How did we get here?"

The woman's voice is barely above a whisper, but Owen's heart breaks as if she had screamed it.

Owen was so angry.

Angry at Masrani for hiring both him and Claire.

Angry at himself for hurting Claire.

And angry at her for making him feel this way about her.

"Are you mad at me?" he questions, swiping at his watery eyes.

She gives him a small smile. "Not mad. Just...disappointed, maybe?" Fiddling with his collar again, she sighs. "Just please don't ignore me like that ever again. I miss talking to you, and being with you..."

That's when she notices something. "Are you...are you _drunk_?"

Oops.

Besides his splitting headache, Owen had completely forgot about the four glasses of tequila he had inhaled only, what? Ten, twenty minutes ago?

He smiles sheepishly. "Oh, yeah. Um, maybe? I don't feel drunk, but who knows anymore?"

The woman gives him a disapproving look, and takes him by the arm.

"Stay here," Claire commands, plopping him down on the couch.

And then she disappears into the kitchen.

It feels like only two seconds before she's back with aspirin and a glass of water.

"Take these."

She's shoving them at him, and he can't help but chuckle at her mama-bear actions.

"Yes, ma'am." Then, after he swallows, "You think you can be a little bossier?"

"It'll be me who saves you from the worst hangover of your life tomorrow morning. You're welcome, by the way."

"Gee, thanks."

He can see a hint of a smile on her face as she gingerly sits down next to him.

"And maybe I want to take care of you," Claire adds.

She leans into him, and he can't do anything but put his arm around her.

"What if _I_ want to take care of _you_?" he counters, and she laughs.

"I can take care of myself just fine."

"Doesn't mean you have to."

She doesn't say anything for a while.

They sit in silence, him holding her as close and tight as he can without smothering her to death.

God, had he missed her.

She smells exactly the same as the last time he had seen her.

That vanilla scent seems to stick around for ages.

"Owen?"

She finally speaks up, pulling back a little so she can look him in the eyes.

"What do we do now?" she whispers.

Claire realizes what she had said almost immediately.

"The last time I asked that, you said we need to stick together."

"And that's still my answer. But," Owen smiles, "I plan to actually follow my own advice this time."

She lays back down, tucking her legs underneath her. "I haven't slept in four days," she states.

"Why not?"

"I was worried about you."

"Claire-" he starts, but she cuts him off.

"I can't help it, Owen. Even though you can be a reckless, stubborn jerk who has a problem with authority...I don't know anyone else who can make me feel this way."

The way Claire says it, it sounds like she's been thinking about it for a while.

"You may think that you didn't protect me while we were in the park, but you _know_ that I wouldn't have let you just leave me behind like you wanted to. I was too determined to help, and honestly, I think that I did more harm than good."

She holds up a hand when the man starts to protest.

"I got in the way and I lectured you when you were just trying to do your job. And I'm sorry about that. But while we were out there, you made sure that no matter what was going on, that I was okay, and it might not have meant that much to you, but it meant everything to me."

Shyly, Claire smiles. "No one's ever taken care of me like that before. And I know it's cheesy but...you've shown me what love can be like."

To say Owen is surprised at Claire's speech is an understatement.

Who knew that the woman who everyone at the park called a stone-cold, workaholic bitch would be able to express emotion like this?

Of course, the raptor trainer was always one of the few Jurassic World employees who never thought of Claire that way, but it still shocked him.

Claire Dearing? Getting sappy? Who would've dreamed of such a thing?

The most astonishing thing to him was that it was _him_ , of all people, that she decided to confess this to.

What was _this_ anyway?

Was she admitting her love for him?

A long shot, but maybe.

Owen sure hoped it was.

He hoped that he wasn't the only one who had feelings.

But how would he know if he never asked? Or made the first move himself?

"I love you."

It just sort of pops out of his mouth. He doesn't mean to say it. But now that he has, he feels so free.

It almost doesn't matter what she says back. _Almost_ _._

A look of shock, confusion, and relief floods over Claire's face.

Then, a smile.

"I love you, too, Owen."

Owen guesses that he's found out where she stands. 


End file.
